


Love as Sweet as Lactose

by gala_apples



Series: The Joneses Get Down [6]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Floor Sex, Food Kink, Frottage, M/M, Milk, Polyamory, Secrets Revealed While Drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:57:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21517840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Gavin's not sure what the worst thing about Extra Life 2019 is; the new kink he realises he has, the crushes he has to deal with, or Funhaus not doing an infomercial hour.
Relationships: Gavin Free/Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Michael Jones, Lindsay Tuggey Jones/Michael Jones
Series: The Joneses Get Down [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1116495
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	Love as Sweet as Lactose

**Author's Note:**

> Written for seasonofkink, for the prompt 'food kink'.

It’s not the tattoo that breaks him. You’d think it would be. It’s such a mark of affection and commitment that Gavin should buckle under the weight of it. But that’s not it. After the segment he goes home, pops some acetaminophen to relax his body, turns on Netflix and really doesn’t think about anything. It’s not until morning that Gavin realises how completely fucked he is. 

He makes breakfast after laying awake in bed for a few minutes, always an early to rise and easy to awaken man. Without that fact he never would have survived living with Geoff and Griffon. Gavin cooks eggs and bacon and then makes the dire mistake of pouring a glass of milk. The instant the first sip is past his lips it all comes flooding back. The segment, the milk boarding that Michael wouldn’t let him do alone, the yard of cups and Michael and Lindsay both rolling in the puddle. It’s with a rapidly rising sense of horror that Gavin realises he’s hard. In the middle of the kitchen, no pornographic input whatsoever, he’s hard. And there’s a line here, a very obvious line. And Gavin tosses his fork onto the tablecloth haphazardly and shoves his hand down his pyjama trousers because fuck the line. As long as they never find out, what’s it matter, and how could they possibly find out?

The problem is the marketing department is bigger than it once was. There’s a surge of people buying the classic dynamite shirt, and they want him to do a quick reshoot of it. 

“Not doing it.” Gavin already emailed them back about it, but Michael is only checking his account now, and apparently hasn’t opened the CC yet.

“Why not?”

“It’s a waste of my time. We just did an anniversary reshoot, what’s changed?”

“Oh, I don’t know, fucknut,” Michael comments, waving his newly branded arm around.

“Then you retake it. I’m not doing it. I’ve got better things to spend my time on.” Gavin does his best to plaster crossness over the terror of being found out. He has no choice but to use the busy schedule excuse. The idea might be relevant -a slow mo camera capturing Gavin doing a spit take of milk as he sees Michael’s tattoo while they both wear the shirt- but he can’t do it. He’s jerked off drinking milk and thinking about the Joneses three times now. There’s no way he keeps his secret if he has to drink milk in Michael’s actual presence.

“What crawled up your ass?”

“Fuck off, Michael,” Gavin snaps because he can’t exactly reply ‘unrequited love about a half decade after the fans considered it important’. 

“Ohhh, not even a boi. Someone’s cranky,” Jeremy laughs.

Gavin stands up and walks out. If Geoff was still here he’d probably follow him to talk some sense into him, but Geoff’s elsewhere now and he doesn’t have the same kind of relationship with anyone else. He can take a minute to decompress anyway. They’re about to be filming AHWU, unboxing fan shit and dicking around with it. They don’t need him for that, it’s not like it’s Minecraft.

His final mistake, after falling in lust in the first place, and not thinking marketing would capitalize on profit to be made, is forgetting he gets fighty when he’s drunk. Or maybe he doesn’t forget and he’s just some type of self sabotaging deep down. Hard to say. He doesn’t drift to introspection. Things are the way they are. Right now that means hammered on Last Call, asking Trevor and Michael for about the seventeenth time if they wanna go. Trevor’s been turning him down pretty politely, like a bitch, but Michael’s talking shit about him being lucky he doesn’t sic Jeremy on him. Lucky, fuck off. Gavin could take him. 

By the time the credits are rolling, Gavin’s started pushing Michael’s shoulder. Trevor, Matt and Fiona wander off set pretty quickly, but Gavin can’t quite bring himself to wrap up on harassing Michael.

“Stop,” he whines in that aggravated tone he gets sometimes during PlayP’s. 

“It’s the only way I can touch you now, boi,” Gavin explains.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Gavin remembers that sober-Gavin didn’t want to talk about this, but sober-Gavin is lame. “Can’t be all over you when all I can think about is the milk.”

“And again, what the fuck?”

“Been thinking about you and Lindsay and the milk all week now.”

Suddenly Michael is tugging on his arm leading him away from the set and past broadcast. They end up in someone’s office around the corner, privacy quickly bought for the promise of Torchy’s later. Michael closes the door and it automatically locks, and then he’s crossing his thick arms across his chest and just looking at Gavin. 

“Me. And Lindsay. And the milk. What the hell Gavin?”

“Dunno, do I. It’s always been a joke, mostly. Like with Geoff. Makes the audience happy, and we’re friends so it’s alright, innit. And if I can imagine maybe something would work in another life where I’m not totally straight what’s it matter, cause I am. But then the milk. Lindsay rolling in it, dripping in it, and it all over your face. The milk boarding... You went back, you did it again. It’s weird and stupid and you’re both _married_ so I won’t be weird and stupid, I bloody swear it, but I can only fighty touch you until I get a girlfriend.” 

Gavin feels his rambling comes to a close and desperately means his promise. He doesn’t know how, now that he’s too old for bar nights and travels so much, but he owes it to Michael and Lindsay to not be weird. The sooner he’s back to normal the better; they still have to play a fifty turn Mario Party.

Looking at Michael to see how he’s looking at him is terrifying, but the results are lacklustre. His expression is not actually that different, post bomb dropping. Michael isn’t looking at him like he’s just been told something Gavin’s only told three other people his whole life, that he can imagine times where building a life with a man would be fine. If it was anyone else, Gavin would assume the lack of reaction meant he didn’t understand what Gavin was saying. He’s sober enough to know that drunk people are not nearly as eloquent as they believe themselves to be. Michael though. He knows Michael understands him. And he’s damn lucky Michael doesn’t fucking throttle him for thinking his wife is hot.

“Okay. ‘Kay Gavin, we can keep it fighty,” he says, the kindest possible thing he could say. Michael punches him in the arm and Gavin hates knowing this’d be a time where Michael gives him a really good hug, except he can’t. Real arm wrapping hugs from Michael are rare, but nice. It’s for the best though.

That should be the end of it. Life should just be making content and business calls and trawling the internet for a girlfriend. Except one day he comes back from a conference call and there’s a vanilla milkshake on his desk. Gavin’s first guess is Steffie coordinating snacks and his second is some sort of shenanigans but on continued examination the waxed cardboard has From Lindsay written on it.

Lindsay’s not at her desk, and when she doesn’t return after a few minutes Gavin loses his patience. He takes a pic and sends it to her along with a question mark. Her single response, not even a second of pulsating dots to insinuate she has more to say, is **you should come over tonight**. 

Makes sense, Gavin figures. If she knows, and clearly she does, better to shout her shovel speech in a private area than at the office. Plus maybe he needs the visual reminder of their house, their one bedroom, their life together. It’ll really stamp down the message of why interfering with the Joneses is fucked up. Maybe he’ll even feel enough guilt to stop wanking about them, which shamefully Gavin hasn’t quite stopped doing yet. He doesn’t text back, doesn’t need to with the read acknowledgement in the corner of the conversation. Nor does he say anything when she finally does come back in to the room. They both know he’ll be going over, so why drag it out further?

It’s with clenching guts that Gavin Ubers to their house. Whatever she’s about to say, he deserves it. That doesn’t mean he wants her to be mad about it, mad at him. If nothing else, he’s trying his best to not let his crushes affect anything. Surely he could get a point or two for the effort? She left the office before him, and Gavin had assumed it was to meet up with Michael, but there’s only her car in the driveway. He must still be at the voice acting thing.

“Hey Gavin,” Lindsay says as she opens the front door and steps aside so he can come in.

“Hey,” is all he can offer back. 

“You want coffee or a drink or anything?”

Gavin can’t do this. It’s stupid of him, provoking her, but he can’t just chit chat while in her house for the first time since he developed feelings for them. Good fucking thing they’re not trying to record their stretch goal yet. With how his stomach is roiling, he’d never make it through the game.

“You gave me a milkshake. Which means you know.”

“I know that Michael thinks you have a milk fetish. And I know that you like him.”

“And you.” At her doubting expression Gavin elaborates. “You know it’s you both, right?”

Lindsay shrugs. “Michael said you implied it. But come on, no one ever talks about the two of us having chemistry.”

“Maybe if Chaos Corner had gone on for longer.” Why the fuck is he consoling her with info about his cheating fantasies? It seems like the worst thing he could do. Gavin needs to reiterate the real point of their conversation. “Look. I get why he told you. I’d never ask him to keep something from you. But he didn’t have to warn you, because I’d never be a piece of shit, trying to wreck things.”

“I told you to come over to tell you you could be. A ‘piece of shit’.”

“What?” Do they mean the same thing by piece of shit? It’s kind of a bit for the camera, his coworkers calling him shit. Maybe she’s taken a different meaning?

Lindsay’s next statement reaffirms that she knows exactly what is going on, she just has a very different stance on it. “I figured it would be a v-shaped thing. He’s gonna be home soon. I was gonna talk this out with you, the rules and shit, and be done by the time he got home so you two could have some time.”

Now what in the fuck is he supposed to do about this madwoman? People don’t just throw their marriage away. But oh, does he want to pluck up the crumpled ball of it. And he’s fuckin’ greedy too; he wants both halves in his grasp. “I don’t know if I want time with him without time with you. Could we wait until he gets home and we could talk about his rules for stuff with you? And wait, wait. How do you even know that with permission he’d want time with me? He’s always been straight.” 

“Yeah, well. So have you been, until you weren’t.” Lindsay rolls her eyes at him, and speaks to him like he’s an idiot. “We _talked about it_ , Gavin. The unknown factor is you, not him or me. Now come here.”

Gavin crosses to her, and is somehow unsurprised when Lindsay takes his hand. It’s such a Lindsay thing to do, to be reassuring in a moment like this when everyone’s world is changing. He wants to ask again if Michael be okay with this, if they should wait for him, but if he can’t trust that Lindsay knows what the Joneses want this is over before it begins.

She leads him to the kitchen, where he gets even more proof this was partially premeditated; the fridge has four gallons of milk in it. She grabs two and gestures for him to take another. Next she leads him to the bathroom. Lindsay takes Gavin’s gallon out of his hand to put it on the sink counter. Then she takes the cap off one of hers and begins to pour it in the bathtub. Once it’s empty, she does the same to the second. It’s surprisingly intoxicating to see the choppy waves the milk pours out in, and the way the movement contrasts with her steady wrist and lovely arm. If Michael was here it’d be the arm with the tattoo.

“Get in.”

“But Michael-”

“I’ll text him where we are.”

It’s with slightly unsteady feet that Gavin climbs into the bathtub. Fully dressed because Lindsay didn’t say otherwise, and despite her referencing hashing things out with Michael, she hasn’t said shit about what they want and in that case he’d better not make assumptions. The milk immediately soaks into his socks, a short preview of attractions to come. After a moment Gavin lowers himself down. The milk is cold against his back, as is the porcelain. It’s only an inch or two deep, but it’s enough to soak half of him as he writhes against the chilly bite of it all. The smell is crisp and lightly sweet and overwhelming.

His thighs are forced together when Lindsay follows him in and straddles him, knees on either side of his hips. She leans down and starts to kiss him. Gavin shivers in reaction. It’s only a kiss, only lips and teeth and tongue, and it’s already so much better than any of his fantasies. Just a kiss and he’s already hard against the zipper of his sopping jeans. He wonders how Michael will react if he walks in to Gavin coming in his pants like a teenager. Is it fucked up if he wants Michael to make fun of him, wants Michael to grope his jizz filled crotch and sneer before milk boarding him? It’s one of his only regrets about Extra Life, that it wasn’t Michael pouring the liquid. Trevor is a lovely Dusk Boy, but he’s not _Michael_.

Things escalate when Lindsay takes one of the hands bracing herself and sloshes it around Gavin’s ear. She raises it to draw the curve of his lips, drops of milk beading up on the plump flesh. It’s too much. The skin there is so fucking sensitive it’s like getting zapped with lightning. Gavin pushes upwards and rolls them over until Lindsay’s on the bottom. Her hair quickly darkens in the creamy bathwater, and it’s fucking absurd how many feelings he gets from seeing that. Gavin takes both of his milk coated hands and shoves them under her shirt. The fabric drags with his wet skin until he can see her beautiful belly.

They’re still making out, hands on her bountiful breasts, hers gripping his ass, when Michael steps into the room. There’s no rage, or faux rage, or quip, all of which Gavin would have expected. Instead it’s “got him all ready without me?”

“Just started. Lots of places to go from here.” Lindsay turns back to Gavin to leer salaciously sat him. “Isn’t that right?”

Gavin has to trust that Lindsay’s handling it the way the Joneses discussed. “Can think of a few destinations, I can.”

“Get out of the tub. Three people cannot fit in a fucking tub, get out of the fucking tub!” Michael’s words quicken as his sentence goes on, until he’s practically shouting. That’s what makes this situation fully real to Gavin. Something isn’t worth caring about if it doesn’t get Michael worked up. If Michael’s yelling, something is happening.

Lindsay, too, can only see the love in yelling. She sits up, barely avoiding cracking his skull, and throws an arm around Gavin’s shoulder as she gets up. After being half dragged out of the tub, Gavin stays compliant as he’s pushed down to the fluffy blue bath mat. Lindsay’s pruned fingers work to tug off his jeans, wet and swollen with milk. It’s a situation Gavin would focus on if it wasn’t for Michael’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he sucks from the gallon Lindsay left on the sink. Michael does it messily and the milk starts to spill out the seams of his mouth. It falls downwards over his chin, dampening the collar of his shirt. It looks as good now as it did during Extra Life, where Gavin’s mind was so blown he didn’t feel the shockwave until twelve hours later. 

“I have to kiss you. I know I said shit about no touching but I was wrong, and I need to kiss you.”

Thank fuck, thank God, thank all the stars above, Michael for once in his life -when not related to Geoff Ramsey- actually does what he’s fuckin’ told. He drops to his knees, grabs Gavin’s face in cold hands and does what Gavin needs him to do. It’s their first real kiss. The one for Extra Life doesn’t count, it didn’t mean anything but friendly abuse for charity. This means something. This time Michael’s lips make his stomach swoop. He tastes lusciously of rich three percent fat.

He kisses Michael through Lindsay getting his jeans off, sodden fabric tugging his underwear off with it. He kisses Michael through Lindsay curling a hand around his cock, and through her beginning to stroke him. They’re still nose to cheek, tongue to tongue when Gavin is suddenly overwhelmed by weight on his pelvis and heated pressure on his cock. Everybody’s observant in a bathroom because what else is there to do for five minutes. He’s noticed the bathroom condoms, long before today. He just never thought they’d be relevant to him.

Lindsay doesn’t give him a verbal hint of what’s about to happen. Instead she just starts rides his cock, sliding up and down with an energy Gavin’s previously only seen her deploy for certain Mario Party games. Her hands both grip his shirt, and her delectable breasts are surely bouncing. Not that he can really see to confirm, what with Michael looming at his head. 

After a few minutes of all of Gavin’s concentration focused on his lips on Michael’s, on his cock in and out of Lindsay, on the weight on his shoulders and thighs as both the Joneses pin him, Michael repostions. It doesn’t mean he’s granted reprieve from the soul devouring kisses though; they just switch to a Spider-Man kiss, each upside down from the other. Gavin can appreciate the uniqueness. He can also appreciate Lindsay’s moans intensifying and the accidental brush of a hand against his shaft on a pull up. Michael’s getting Lindsay off, getting his wife off and Gavin thinks that’s lovely. Exactly what they each deserve.

Things change again when Lindsay comes. It’s beautiful, and theatrical, and Gavin is so fucking lucky to be allowed to witness it. It does, however, lead to the immediate question of what happens next. Lindsay’s rising up and off his erection, which implies she’s had her fill and now it’s up to him and Michael. But they still haven’t talked about what everyone wants. Just how hands on can he get? Gavin knows milk wouldn’t make good lube. He still can’t help imagining Michael filling his ass with milk and fucking it all out of him.

Writhing on the bathmat had dried him a little so it’s with nothing but pleasure that Gavin takes it when Lindsay starts to pour more of the third gallon on him. Not like the waterboarding. The liquid misses his face almost entirely, even once Michael shifts away and stops being his umbrella. No, the move Lindsay’s making soaks him from collarbone to condom covered dick. The milk chills his heated flesh and paradoxically makes him heat up.

His temperature fluctuations only get worse when Michael crawls on top of him and peels the jonny away. He used their brief separation to get naked, and he’s a fucking vision. His arms are to goddamn die for, thick with muscle, and the tattoos are so boi specific that Gavin can’t help but love them. 

On top of him in leadership position Michael doesn’t pull off any special technique, just grinds himself against Gavin’s cock. It’s goddamn mind blowing. He’s hot and cold all over and he’d kiss Michael except Lindsay’s kneeling now, and her fingers are playing with his lips in the filthiest of ways. Their sensations are warring for his attention, each winning a skirmish of flesh before losing the next battle. Geoff will laugh at his funeral if this is how he dies.

“I- I’m close, boi.”

“Yeah?” Michael asks, voice pitched as low as Gavin’s was. Lindsay shifts away then, and Gavin briefly mourns the loss for his oversensitive lips before a particularly good slide and drag of Michael recaptures his attention.

It’s a bit pathetic to come from schoolboy frottage, not actual fucking, he knows. But bodies don’t care about the same sorts of things that egos do. His body is nearly there, almost over the edge. He doesn’t confirm with a follow up ‘yeah’, but he knows the way he’s humping up into Michael tells the tale for him.

All of a sudden Lindsay is over Michael’s shoulder, looking at him. “I was out there, when Trevor finished milk boarding you, and you asked him to do it a second time. I thought you were doing it for the content, for the money. I didn’t realise you were just being a big slut.”

Gavin would explain that he hadn’t known, then, but he’s too busy trembling from being called a slut. It’s a word that punches him in the guts, in a good way.

“In this house, we stan sluts. Open your mouth,” Lindsay says. Gavin swells with affection for everything that Lindsay Tuggey Jones is, and lets his jaw hang open.

It’s a surprise Gavin’s immediately embarrassed for being surprised by, how dumb is he? Of course Lindsay has the third gallon, the only jug with anything left in it. From her position tucked in beside Michael, she can start pouring right away, having not capped it last time. Does it still count as waterboarding if it’s a slow trickle over his face, slow enough that he can swallow it all? Does it still count as torture if he’s about to come?

Michael grinding down at just the right angle does it for him. Gavin gurgles the milk in his mouth, exhaling as he comes and sputtering the stream over his face. He makes a fist of one hand, digs the other into Michael’s side. Lindsay doesn’t stop milkboarding him, Michael doesn’t stop thrusting, the Joneses _never_ stop and sometimes Gavin doesn’t know how he can be living here surrounded by powerhouse people instead of a clerk at Waitrose but he’s just so fucking grateful.

When Gavin is well and truly into overstimulation mode, he throws an arm against Michael’s chest to try to get enough space between them that his dick can catch a break. Thankfully Michael doesn’t go far, just kneels on his thighs and jerks off until he comes on Gavin’s cock and balls, face squinting in an objectively ridiculous but oddly cute expression. Hello kink he didn’t know he had. Come play is a go, now that he’s bi, apparently.

It’s Lindsay who breaks the sex driven atmosphere. She’s kneeling over the edge of the tub, showing off enough rubenesque ass and leg that Gavin could almost get hard again. “We should drain this, right? We’re not gonna have a second go? Because this shit is gonna go rank pretty quickly, and I really don’t need rotten milk in the drain when I next shower.”

“Ugh, it’ll get caught in your fucking hair,” Michael bitches. “Absolutely drain it right now.”

Gavin stands up and starts tugging off his sopping clothing. He’ll have to borrow something from Michael to go home in. He doesn’t have the arm muscles he does, so the sleeves will be saggy, and he’ll definitely need to belt any jeans he might take, but no Uber’s going to accept him with wet clothing on. The only other option is wash them here and wait until everything’s dry, but that’ll take awhile. This is his first time having a threesome with a married couple, how's he supposed to know how long he’s allowed to stay in their home afterwards? 

Nobody’s saying anything. Lindsay is standing under the shower head with her shirt still on, the spray pushing the last vestiges of whole milk out of her hair and off her body. Michael’s tossing all the wet articles of clothing into the hamper. After he gets his own and what of his wife’s he can, he angles the tall basket towards Gavin. Gavin was just going to ask for a plastic bag to take his things home with him, but he doesn’t refuse. Even if they want him to leave right away, Michael can just bring them to work.

Nobody’s saying anything, and it’s a silence that’s almost comfortable, except Gavin’s brain won’t stop asking him if this is the only time he gets this. If it was just an extension of the madness of Extra Life, just like how the merch sales continue to give dollars to Extra Life afterwards. If Lindsay’s talk of a v-shaped thing implies that it’ll be around long enough to have a shape, even if she was wrong about the actual shape. What it means that Michael didn’t take the easy shot when Gavin was admitting to being an idiot. Gavin feels like he doesn’t have the right to ask this, but he needs to know. “So what now?”

“I mean, I’d continue to not drink milk, since it causes boners like that.”

Of all the people in the world, only Lindsay could have a kinky threesome then refer to it with primary school slang. 

“Thanks Lindsay, I don’t think he was gonna.” Michael modifies him tone and shrugs. “Guess that depends on you, boi. If you got the lust out of your system or if you’re feeling more than that.”

“Okay, but you too.” 

“Not really,” Lindsay says. Her words are briefly muffed by fabric as she pulls her now rinsed T-shirt off. “This wasn’t surprise sudden lust for us. I was ready to let you two have each other, remember?”

“It was like half an hour ago, I didn’t forget. I’m just not sure what you meant. Forever?” The word almost catches in his throat. It’s hard to say, hard to admit it’s something he thinks about when he’s stuck on a flight in the twilight hours. Who’s gonna be there when he’s old? Even before his newfound kinky lust, Gavin had hoped for Michael and Lindsay to be on that list of eighty year old friends, along with Geoff and Griffon and Burnie. “Do you- is it- how long do you want me?”

“We’re good for as long as you are, boi,” Michael says.

“You’re married.”

“Yeah, and that means we’re together in all our decisions. Including the decision to include you,” Lindsay explains. Gavin wants badly to reach into the shower and hug her. Platonically, despite her now totally nude body. He’s just struck by 

“Look. Go put on some sweatpants, I’ve got some with a drawstring. A comfy shirt. Well all grab blankets and rewatch some Sunny.”

Nothing’s different. He’s sleeping with Lindsay and Michael, and will continue to, and everything in his life has changed, but nothing is different. It’s a real headfuck. Gavin might have to get Jack a fruit platter for hosting the charity stream that’s given him this.


End file.
